


a fistful of glitter in the air

by jessicawhitly



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, discussion of marriage law and procreation mandates, follows book canon over movie canon in regards to Effie's storyline, mentions of Everlark and kids, set way way past the epilogue of mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: “I see. They believe 15 is the age to begin teaching about Panem’s past,” Effie lets out an inelegant snort, and Haymitch’s face darkens.“Doesn’t change the fact that Poppy and I are nothing more than part of a plan to repopulate the country,” Hera snipes, and Haymitch feels the way Effie flinches beside him at the words.or, Effie and Haymitch sit their daughters down to explain some things about Panem in the years following the Rebellion.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	a fistful of glitter in the air

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a number of years since I touched THG fic, but I've been toying with marriage laws fic- and I wanted to write a little something dealing with the aftereffects of one, because I wholeheartedly believe some kind of law would have come to be in Panem post-Rebellion, even if it was eventually dissolved. Also, I just really love Hera and Poppy Abernathy. Title is from Glitter in the Air by P!nk.

The door slamming shut is the first sign that something is wrong.

Effie frowns, setting the tablet aside and looking up from where she’s sitting at the kitchen island, sifting through documents Plutarch had sent her to read through.

“Excuse me, young lady, there is no need for slamming doors in this house,” she arches an eyebrow as the teenager barrels through the doorway, cornsilk-colored hair billowing out behind her. Her words are ignored, and Effie’s frown deepened. “Hera Abernathy I am speaking to you.”

Hera turns, slamming the books in her hands on the kitchen table as her gray eyes flash.

“You and Dad are _liars,_ ” there’s a surprising amount of venom in her voice, and Effie blinks, taking her daughter in.

“Well, I’m sure there’s more to that statement,” she starts, and Hera huffs, shaking her head.

“You and Dad have been lying to us for years, and you didn’t get married because- because you loved each other, and Poppy and I we’re- we’re just _repopulation mandates_ ,” she forces out, words nearly tripping over each other as she works herself up, her volume so high it echoes in the vaulted ceiling of the kitchen. Her chest heaves after she gets the words out, and Effie feels something inside her chest crack.

She’d thought they’d have more time.

“What’s with all the yelling, sweetheart?” Haymitch’s voice carries from where he’s on the porch, and he stops dusting his hands when he sees Hera, glaring at the two of them. “Bad day at school, Hera?”

“Marry Mom because of a law, Dad?” Hera counters, and Effie abruptly stands up from the stool she’s sitting on, nearly upending it as Haymitch lets out a sharp ‘whoa’ noise from behind her.

“That is _enough_ ,” she snaps, looking at Hera. “Where is your sister?”

“At Aunt Katniss’. Darcy wanted her to see her new room,” Hera answers shortly. “I didn’t tell her.”

“I see. They believe 15 is the age to begin teaching about Panem’s past,” Effie lets out an inelegant snort, and Haymitch’s face darkens.

“Doesn’t change the fact that Poppy and I are nothing more than part of a plan to repopulate the country,” Hera snipes, and Haymitch feels the way Effie flinches beside him at the words.

“Conceiving you was a _gift,_ ” Effie’s voice breaks around the word even as she attempts to keep her voice rigid, and her nails bite into her palms, struggling to hold back the tears that spring to her eyes. For the first time, the steadfast resolve to remain angry seems to waver in Hera’s gray eyes, and something flickers in her face. “We did not- I did not think I could ever-”

She cuts herself off, swallowing hard, and Haymitch’s fingers are warm and dry as they wrap around her wrist. Effie clears her throat, lifting a hand to swipe quickly beneath both her eyes.

“I need to get some air,” she says lightly, forcing a bland smile that doesn’t reach her eyes or fool anyone into thinking she was remotely fine. “And I’ve been meaning to return that cake stand to Peeta for days. I will be back in a short while with Poppy.”

Picking the white ceramic stand up, she slips away without another word; Haymitch watches her go carefully, the door shutting with a click before he turned to his eldest daughter with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Daddy, I didn’t-” Hera tries to start, seeming to realize she’d dipped her toe into a much larger pool than she’d anticipated, and Haymitch lifts a hand, stopping her.

“I realize that learning what you did in school was a shock,” he starts, voice thick with weariness. “And maybe your mom and I should have prepared you more. But we thought we had more time. You and Poppy are still so young- we really weren’t expecting to have to explain all this to you just yet.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, letting out a sigh before propping an elbow up on the table, looking at Hera; his daughter’s eyes had grown wider, her teeth sunken into her bottom lip in a move so similar to her mother’s it tugs at Haymitch’s heart. She suddenly looked so much younger than fifteen, and Haymitch feels the weight of what they had to share with her settle on his shoulders tenfold.

“She’s coming back, right?” fear and worry fill the teenager’s face, and Haymitch reaches over to brush his thumb along her cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, sweetheart. She just needs some air- collect her thoughts. There’s a lot you don’t know about your mother; about her life before she lived in Twelve,” he says, and Hera frowns, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Before she lived in Twelve? What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head, and Haymitch stands, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“That’s your mother’s story to tell. And she will. When she gets back,” he tells her. “Now help me get some dinner started.”

They’re just finishing up a vegetable stirfry when Effie returns with Poppy; the strawberry-blonde twelve year old was outlining her plan to add a new section to the garden that weekend and chattering a mile a minute. Effie listened with interest, though her focus was on the conversation she’d thought was years away that was now suddenly staring her down.

Haymitch’s hand at her waist drags her from her thoughts, and she blinks; his eyes are dark with concern, and she touches his cheek, nodding to let him know she was alright. Lifting onto her toes, she touches their lips together; sighing into his mouth when he tugged her closer, his tongue licking along her bottom lip.

Poppy fills most of the dinner chitchat- she’d started learning multiplication tables, and she demonstrates them for them all from memory. Effie feels her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest, aware of each distinct pump- would this be the last dinner her daughters could stand to look at her? Would they be able to stand her once they realized she was from the Capitol?

It was a fear she’d never fully realized until that moment- to them, she’d always just been Mom in Twelve. She didn’t talk about her Capitol past, and they’d only ever spent time in Four with Annie and Jo, and they’d briefly visited Jo’s home in Seven. She’d made occasional trips to the Capitol to see Plutarch, but not in years- not since the girls were small, and never for more than a weekend.

She’d changed significantly since she’d moved to Twelve almost twenty years ago. Gone was the woman who caked on pale powder and wore extravagant wigs and makeup; since her imprisonment she hadn’t touched a wig, instead leaving her hair to its natural blonde. She hadn’t truly come to love it until Hera had been born, and she’d seen the color on a tiny human she’d made.

She still liked pink, and she could never quite get away from a beauty routine, but motherhood had changed her style significantly- she’d come to favor shirts that buttoned and gave her daughters easy access in their early days. Haymitch had always liked her in dresses, but they’d changed from her ridiculous, gauzy Capitol style to soft, linen summer dresses that Katniss had taught her to sew herself over many painstaken hours when she’d been pregnant with Hera.

“Come sit, girls,” Effie pats the table lightly once they’re done with dinner and everything is in the sink, and both Hera and Poppy slide into the chairs opposite her and Haymitch. Effie looks at her husband, taking a breath, and in silent agreement, he starts.

“The world…it was a different place before you girls were born,” Haymitch tells them, and Poppy nods.

“The Games,” she replies softly, and Haymitch and Effie both nod.

“But not just the Games. There was the war, and the Rebellion,” Effie continued, and both girls nodded, having learned about the subjects briefly in school. “A lot of people died. A few years after President Paylor was elected, she and the Council passed a law, in an effort to help the population growth.”

Effie paused, taking a breath.

“Your father and I…we were together before the law was put into place,” Effie starts back up, and Haymitch twines their fingers together under the table, thumb brushing along her wedding band. She turns her head slightly, catching his eye, and squeezing his fingers in thanks for the silent strength he was offering. “There are some things you need to understand about- about _me_ , darlings.”

Hera and Poppy’s eyebrows both contracted, and Effie’s fingers flexed around Haymitch’s.

“I was born in the Capitol,” she says, and two sets of gray eyes widen, looking back at her. “And I lived there for most of my life. I only came to live in Twelve after the war was over- when Peeta came back, I came back with him. And I came back to be with your father. I needed time, after the things the Capitol had done to me, but I’d always known I was coming here.”

“What do you mean, Mama?” Poppy asks, her voice soft and face scrunched up. “What did they do to you?”

Effie feels her chest tighten, and she swallows hard before she can continue.

“You’ve asked about my scars before,” is how she decides to start, fingers flexing unconsciously. “During...during the Rebellion, the Capitol kept me captive, like your Uncle Peeta and your Aunt Jo, and your Aunt Annie. For awhile, your aunts and I were even in the same cell.”

Poppy’s nose crinkles.

“Aunt Jo probably loved that,” she says with tentative amusement, and Effie’s face briefly smoothes into a soft half-smile.

“She only protested on occasion,” she replied, her smile faltering slightly. She clears her throat, raising her free hand to rest against her neck lightly. “When they were rescued, I’d already been...moved. To a smaller cell- far away from where the rest of them were.”

Haymitch’s fingers tighten around hers, his thoughts clearly picking at an old wound, and Effie rubs her thumb along the back of his hand soothingly. It had been nearly two decades ago now- they’d both made their peace with it. They couldn’t change the past, and they had a life and a family now that meant the world to them both.

“It wasn’t until after the war was over and Plutarch had done some digging that I was...found,” Effie continues after a moment, and Hera’s face is pale- paler than usual, and Effie keeps her voice gentle, looking between both her daughters’ faces. “It took a long time to recover from what happened to me. Peeta and I stayed together in the Capitol for a while, recovering, but when he was ready to return to Twelve, I decided it was time for me to travel here as well. I had already sold most of my things, and my apartment hadn’t felt like home in weeks.”

Effie turns her head, finding Haymitch already gazing at her, blue eyes soft with warmth and affection. In the three decades they’d been together- in some form or another- she had never quite gotten used to that look, and it remained her favorite expression of his, though she’d never tell _him_ that. “I have not regretted coming here for a single moment. Even when your father showed me those horrid geese.”

That pulls giggles from both the girls, and the air lightens somewhat, the tension easing minutely.

“Two years after President Paylor was elected,” Effie continues on, sighing softly as she reaches up to run a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “A law was put into place in order to help the population growth of the country, as it was struggling significantly. Anyone of childbearing age was to be placed into a pool and married, and there were incentives given out for children produced over the following years.”

“A lot of people still didn’t trust that our new world was...safe,” Haymitch adds to Effie’s words, giving her a break as she takes a sip from her glass of water, and she squeezes his thigh gratefully under the table. “So a lot of couples weren’t having kids- for a long time, even your Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta were pretty sure they didn’t want to have any. Too scared something similar to the Games they’d been forced to compete in would emerge, and how could they justify bringing kids into a world like that? After everything they’d already suffered?”

“I didn’t… _we_ didn’t think it was a possibility,” Effie words it, trying to keep it as delicate as possible. “So when we realized we were pregnant with you, Hera it was- it was a surprise, sweetheart.”

“What your mother’s trying to say was it scared us shitless,” Haymitch rephrases, and Effie rolls her eyes, smacking his shoulder gently. “We got married because the law mandated it, yeah- neither of us wanted to get shoved into a pool just because genetically, we could have children and we weren’t already legally married, like your Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta were at that point. We did love each other- make no mistake about that.”

Effie finds herself softening- Haymitch had changed over the years, finding words easier than he used to, especially once Hera and Poppy had entered their lives and he’d learned to live without a steady stream of booze in his veins, but saying I love you wasn’t exactly commonplace within their relationship. She didn’t expect it- after nearly thirty years, she knew how he felt about her; she didn’t need verbal affirmations.

“Neither of us thought we could have kids after the things we’d been through, so we weren’t…as careful as we should have been,” Haymitch feels himself wince and both their daughters flush, having been through the birds and the bees talk with them already. “So when we found out, we weren’t prepared. I can tell you with all the confidence in the goddamn world neither of you are a population mandate because, to put it bluntly- we weren’t trying, sweetheart.”

Hera blushes to her hairline, her fair skin turning crimson, and Effie feels her own face echoing the coloring.

“I spent the first few weeks of my pregnancy terrified I’d lose it- convinced what had happened to me had damaged my body too much to be able to successfully carry any baby to full term,” Effie finds herself picking at her nails anxiously, and Haymitch’s fingers are gentle as they pry her fingers apart, holding them within his own and squeezing lightly. “So when I hit each weekly mark and you were still healthy, it was...well, darling, each week- each day, really- was a gift. And then you arrived, all 7 pounds, 4 ounces of you, healthy as could be and lungs to rival an airhorn and suddenly we had a daughter.”

Hera’s flush is gentler this time, her head inclined in soft embarrassment, and Poppy nudges her with a grin, head falling to her shoulder.

“Truthfully- we didn’t collect any of the incentives, for either you or Poppy. Katniss and Peeta didn’t for Oliver or Darcy either. We were _happy_ , so when the next president got elected and dissolved the law within seven years of it being passed, it barely had any effect on our family,” Effie shrugged. “I knew one day you’d read something and ask questions but I always thought that would be so far in the future I’d have time to...to prepare a better answer.”

Her shrug this time is a little helpless, and she swallows hard.

“Both of you were very much born out of love, I need you to understand that,” her voice is firm, and she looks them in the eyes to be sure they hear her. “No matter what any teacher tells you, or any child at school tries to tease you about, both of you were created because your father and I love each other, and we wanted you very, very much. Alright? It has nothing to do with any law, or any mandate, or anything other than love. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Mama,” both Hera and Poppy chirp back, nodding fervently, and Effie finds herself relaxing, shoulders loosening and she sinks back slightly, resting against Haymitch.

“Do you have anything to add, dear?” she looks at Haymitch, finding his mouth half-twisted in amusement. He shakes his head, eyes brightened with fondness.

“Nah, think you got the point across well enough, princess,” he replies, and she rolls her eyes. “Think these two have earned some desert now?”

Effie taps her chin, studying their daughters for a moment before she nods, softening.

“Shall we invite the Mellarks over? We have fresh strawberries, and I do believe Uncle Peeta was making shortcake earlier,” she says, and Poppy’s eyes lit up.

“Can I call them, Mama?” she asks, and Effie nods. She’s off like a shot, hair flying out like a streamer behind her, and Hera gets up too, though she only rounds the table, falling into her mother’s lap. Effie strokes through her daughter’s hair, pressing a kiss to the golden strands.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Hera whispers, and Effie tuts.

“You were only reacting, darling,” she replies, rubbing Hera’s back. “Perhaps a bit strongly, but you are your father’s daughter, after all.”

Haymitch snorts at that, and Effie meets his eyes over their daughter’s head, finding him rolling his eyes as he stands up.

“Then I’m sorry for what they did to you,” Hera’s voice is a little quieter, and Effie’s fingers trace over Hera’s spine. “You’re so brave, Mama.”

“Oh, I’m not very brave, darling,” Effie shakes her head, waving the words away, and Hera sits up, frowning.

“I think you’re the bravest person I know,” her eldest daughter replies, and Effie swallows hard. She wants to counter- tell her that Katniss or Peeta or Haymitch are much braver than her. She opens her mouth to do just that, when she’s interrupted by another voice.

“Wanna know a secret, kid?” it’s Haymitch speaking and Effie turns, finding her husband leaning against the doorway and watching them.

“What, daddy?” Hera asks, and Haymitch’s gaze meets Effie’s as he speaks.

“Mom’s the bravest person I know too.”


End file.
